


Smoking in the Courtyard

by NahaFlowers



Category: Downton Abbey
Genre: Canon Compliant, Duke of Crowborough - Freeform, Gen, John Bates - Freeform, Joseph Molesley - Freeform, Mary Crawley - Freeform, Mrs Hughes - Freeform, Phyllis Baxter - Freeform, Queer!Anna, basically anything that happens to these two on the show is referenced in this fic, but there's nothing really graphic, mentions of rape and suicide, mostly - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-25
Updated: 2017-09-25
Packaged: 2019-01-05 10:47:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,836
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12188526
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NahaFlowers/pseuds/NahaFlowers
Summary: "I hate this bloody place," Thomas swore, stubbing his cigarette out with his shoe."Except for me," said Anna, with a slight grin.Thomas snorted. "Except for you," he agreed.Thomas and Anna's friendship throughout the years, from their arrival at Downton Abbey as footman and housemaid, to the end of the series, as butler and mother.





	Smoking in the Courtyard

**Author's Note:**

> I loved these two, and they both deserved so much better. I also wish they'd had more interaction/been more obviously friends in the series. This is my attempt to rectify that, while sticking as closely to canon as possible.

They started working at Downton Abbey on the same day. Mrs Hughes, head housemaid, soon to become housekeeper, introduced them to each other.

"Anna Smith, this is Thomas Barrow, the new footman. Mr Barrow, this is Anna Smith - she's also starting today."

Anna smiled at him pleasantly, but Thomas merely nodded. Not the most auspicious start to a friendship.

Later, however, they were alone in the servants' hall.

"I'm going out for a smoke," said Thomas. "Wanna come?"

"I don't smoke," said Anna.

Thomas shrugged. "Suit yourself," he said, getting up and heading outside without even a glance back at her. After a moment's indecision, Anna got up as well and followed him outside. Thomas was standing on the porch, sheltering as best as he could from the rain, already with a lit cigarette between his teeth. He offered her a cigarette when he saw her come out and stand beside him, but she shook her head.

"I meant it," she said. "I really don't smoke."

"All right," said Thomas, raising an eyebrow, smiling for the first time. "You don't smoke." He glanced sideways at her, as if wondering why she had come out in the rain if she wasn't going to light one up, but seemed to think better of saying it.

"I just wanted some company," she said uncomfortably, feeling like she owed the footman an explanation, even if he hadn't asked. "I don't know _anyone_ round here."

"You from far away?" he asked, interested.

"Relatively, yes," she said, deciding not to expound on the reason why she had felt the need to get as far away from home and her step father as possible.

"So am I," Thomas admitted. They shared a look of understanding then, before he tossed his cigarette on the floor and stamped it out. "Nice to meet you, Anna Smith," he grinned, before retreating back indoors. Anna watched him go and let the rain fall on her face a few minutes longer, before following him back inside. If she wasn't mistaken, she had just made a friend.

 

* * *

 

"Why Downton, then?" Thomas asked her, after they had gone through their normal ritual of him offering her a smoke and her refusing it.

Anna shrugged. "They gave me an interview and offered me the job," she said, as if it was as simple as that.

"No," said Thomas, smiling tightly, "I mean, what did you come so far?"

Anna looked down, and was quiet for so long that Thomas thought she wasn't going to answer. Then: "My stepfather," she whispered, daring to look at Thomas, who nodded.

"It was my father," he said, answering the question that Anna had not asked.

She nodded. "I'm sorry," she said, slipping her hand into his. They did not ask what their father figures had done, and neither of them were inclined to explanations.

"I hate this bloody place," Thomas swore, stubbing his cigarette out with his shoe.

"Except for me," said Anna, with a slight grin.

Thomas snorted. "Except for you," he agreed.

 

* * *

 

It was lucky it was Anna who had discovered them, that's all Thomas could say. She had come into the guest room, presumably to clean it, only to find him with his tongue down the throat of the Duke of Crowborough. They jumped apart.

"Girl," said the Duke, and Thomas felt a creeping dislike of the man. "You'll tell no one of this, or you _will_ regret it." Thomas wanted to disappear on the spot.

Anna was remarkably composed. "Of course not, sir," she said dutifully, and left the room before Thomas could catch her eye.

That evening she left to go outside before he did, and he followed her.

"Smoke?" he said. 

Anna glanced his way and grinned. "No thank you," she said.

He lit up anyway, alternating between avoiding looking at her entirely and casting furtive glances at her.  
"That's why you had to come all this way," she said, and it wasn't a question. "Your father-"

"He found out," Thomas finished for her. "He wasn't best pleased." He scowled.

Anna nodded.

"I threatened my stepfather," she said quietly. "With a knife." Thomas couldn't hide his shock and when Anna looked at him she saw it written all over his face. "He forced himself on me, and my mother refused to believe me, because without him we would have _nothing_." There were tears in her voice, though she kept them off her face. "So, I cut him. Made sure he'd keep his hands off me. He didn't like that."

"So?" said Thomas, holding his breath.

"My mother covered it up, lied to the police for me, when he went to them. And I got as far away as possible."

"I'm sorry," he said quietly, for want of anything useful to say.

Anna exhaled through her nose, a harsh sort of laugh. "Me too," she said. "Anyway, I thought you ought to know."

"I know your secret, you know mine?" he asked.

"Something like that." Anna sounded tired, like a woman twice her age. Thomas cautiously put a hand on her shoulder, and she leant into his embrace.

"Thanks," they said in unison before going back inside, their eyes flicking to and away from each other. They carried secret smiles back into the servants' hall with them.

 

* * *

 

Their smoking tête-à-têtes dwindled to non-existent as Thomas became closer to O'Brien, and as a consequence, meaner, more vindictive, always scheming something or other. Or she thought it was O'Brien's influence. Maybe she had been wrong about him this whole time; maybe this had been in him all along, along with his hatred for the place they both worked, a place where Anna had found a place, a kind of home, and friends.

Still, after the death of Kemal Pamuk, and the night she had spent in Lady Mary's bed, she felt the need to talk to him. She eventually got the opportunity, when O'Brien was off seeing to her Ladyship, and she and Thomas were in the servants' hall along with several other servants. She rose and caught Thomas's eye, nodding to the door. He gazed at her malevolently for a moment, before giving her the tiniest nod.

So tiny that she wondered if she'd imagined it, as she stood for nearly five minutes, alone on the porch.

Eventually, though, the door opened behind her and she heard the familiar sound of Thomas lighting up, although he didn't offer her one this time. 

"What is it?" he said, mild enough, but brusque. 

She shuffled uncomfortably. Perhaps this had been a bad idea. But if anyone would understand, it would be Thomas. "Anna?" he asked, more worriedly. 

"I think I'm falling in love," she admitted suddenly, quite unsure where that pronouncement had come from. That had not been what she meant to say. 

"With Mr Bates," he said scornfully. 

"No!" said Anna, shaking him off. "Not him. I... don’t know what I feel about him." 

Thomas looked confused. "Then with who?" 

Anna looked at Thomas. She knew that, whatever happened, she could trust him with her secrets. But she could not do so with Lady Mary's. "A woman," she admitted quietly. 

"A woman!" Thomas exclaimed, taken aback. "Well, I never thought I'd see the day." His tone was teasing, and Anna narrowed her eyes at him in retort. 

"Well, what should I do?" she asked, frustrated. She didn't know how on Earth to handle these feelings, feelings that she knew were wrong, let alone whether she should ever act on them. 

Thomas started to laugh. "You're asking me for _advice_?" he asked, laughing in earnest now. "Anna, you should know by now that I'm not exactly the luckiest with men." He snorted in amusement. "And I don't know shit about women," he added. 

Anna smirked. "You seemed to get on well enough with the Duke of Crowborough," she teased. 

Thomas's face darkened. "That didn't exactly end well," he said. "You want advice, Anna? Don't mess around with the aristocracy. It leads to nothing but trouble." 

Well, there it was. Anna sighed. "But is it wrong?" she asked. "Being like we are?" 

Something wild and happy flashed across Thomas's face at Anna's admission that they were the same, or at least similar. "No," he said fiercely. "It's not wrong. We're not wrong. We're just...different." And the conviction in his voice was more persuasive than any Bible verse Anna had ever read. 

 

* * *

  
"This is your fault!" shouted Anna. "Yours and O'Brien's! If you hadn't decided to bring Mr Bates's wife down here, get her involved in his life again, none of this would ever have happened!"

They were out in the courtyard - it was the first time they'd been alone in each other's company in a long time, and Anna was fit to burst with anger at him and his manipulative plotting.

"It's not my bloody fault!" said Thomas. "Blame O'Brien if you have to blame anybody but - we didn't mean for this to happen."

Anna snorted. "No, you just wanted to get my husband fired!" she shot back.

"Your husband!" Thomas's mouth twisted in disgust. "I thought you were like me." He couldn't help the betrayal that lanced through his voice, making it sound like an accusation.

"I'm _nothing_ like you and I never will be!" Anna spat, before marching inside, leaving Thomas reeling.

They didn't speak after that, not really. They were perfectly polite to each other, most of the time, but their friendship was over. Thomas buried the regret deep down inside of him, covered it with scorn and an obsession with the new footman.

 

It was Bates who saved him from being fired, and that stung worse than anything else that had happened over the past few days. Anna wasn't vindictive, but she made no secret of the fact that she wouldn't have cared if he was fired. He didn't look at her for over a month, and he had never been so friendless, with O'Brien lost to him and Jimmy disgusted by him.

After Mr Crawley's funeral, she found him in the courtyard again. She looked tired to the bone, and Thomas didn't envy her the task of trying to look after Lady Mary while she grieved.

"I'm sorry," she said, after a moment where they just looked at each other. "For the things I said."

Thomas shrugged and offered her a cigarette. Anna shook her head, smiling, and went back inside.

 

* * *

 

Anna moved back into her old room in the house that summer. 

Thomas found her out in the courtyard one afternoon and asked her why.   
"It's just easier," she shrugged, and Thomas looked at the dark circles beneath her eyes and knew she was lying. 

"Trouble in paradise?" he asked, trying to sound like he cared, although he thought maybe he just came off as patronising. 

"It's none of your business," snapped Anna, and Thomas shrugged genially. That was true enough he supposed. He'd had enough of poking his nose in where it wasn't concerned, especially when it came to Anna. 

"Want a light?" he said, out of habit, and Anna surprised them both by taking one. He lit it for her, and she drew in the smoke, trying to blow it out her mouth like she'd seen him do, but ending up coughing. 

"Not so deep," he said. "Hold the smoke in the front of your mouth." He watched as she followed his instruction and succeeded in blowing out a cloud of smoke. She smiled at him, pleased, and Thomas realised it had been a long time since he had seen her smile, or heard her laugh. 

She sighed, taking another drag of her cigarette. "How do you bear it, Thomas?" He looked questioningly at her. "Keeping on when everyone else is so wrong?" 

Thomas smiled. "I dunno," he said, shrugging. "Complaining about them, I suppose."

Anna grinned, and raised her eyebrows at him, as if to say, 'well?' 

Thomas searched for a topic that wouldn't cause too much conflict, even if she disagreed with him. "That Green bloke," he said, "the one that came up here with Gillingham - he's not all that, is he?" 

"No," said Anna in agreement. "He is not." 

"I mean," he continued, trying to ignore the way Anna had tensed, and the instinct he had to stop talking, "all that shit about what he gets up to in London...seems like a right slimy bastard to me." 

Anna was still very tense, motionless as if she was trying to keep herself together, but she was smiling slightly. "I'm glad I'm not the only one," she said quietly, and suddenly Thomas _knew_ , remembered her bruised face the night after Green came, how he had exclaimed 'what happened to you?' in shock. 

"Anna," he said, putting his hand on hers. She flinched, and he removed it immediately. 

"Don't," she said, and he could hear her trying to keep herself together, hear the choked off tears in her voice. She looked up at him pleadingly. "Don't." 

Thomas nodded, a lump in his throat. Anna stamped out her cigarette and went inside, but not before looking at him meaningfully, and Thomas couldn't help but think that Anna didn't deserve a single bad thing that had happened to her, not to mention the many things that had befallen her.

 

Green joined him for a smoke one day, and Thomas made sure to drop hot ash on his bare hand. "Ow," he said reproachfully. 

"Sorry," said Thomas cheerfully, smiling, not sounding a bit sorry. He dropped his cigarette on the bastard's foot, and it made a mark on his shoe. 

The bastard just about exploded. "Look what you've done to my shoe!" he shouted at Thomas's retreating back. Thomas made a rude gesture at him, and nearly bumped into Mrs Hughes as he stepped inside.

"Mr Barrow, what-" she started angrily, but then she looked past him to see Green, hopping mad behind him. "Never mind," she said, and Thomas was sure he heard her say "good," under her breath as she brushed past him.

 

* * *

 

Thomas stood paralysed in the crowd of servants as Anna was arrested, wishing he could say something, do _anything_ to help. He never thought he'd think it, but God bless Lady Mary for shouting at the policemen, trying to stop them from taking her away. Not that it made any difference, in the end. It never made a difference, for people like him and Anna.

 

* * *

 

Despite the tentative rebuilding of their friendship, Thomas was the last person Anna had expected to visit her in prison. She wondered how he'd wrangled it with Mr Bates, but decided not to ask. She smiled at him briefly as he Sat down, but then her face sunk into the expression of hopelessness and despair that was becoming natural to her, nowadays. That was the good thing about Thomas - she didn't have to pretend with him.

"I won't bother asking if you're alright," he said, and Anna found herself grateful for Thomas and his friendship, his straightforwardness.

"I didn't expect to see you here," she admitted.

"Well," said Thomas awkwardly. "I wanted to see you." He sounded a little defensive.

"It wasn't a complaint, Mr Barrow," Anna said, smiling properly for the first time in a good while.

He flashed her a brief grin in return. "I care about you," he said. "I wanted you to know that."

"I do," said Anna, and she was overcome with emotion all of a sudden, tears pricking at her eyes. "I've always known."

Thomas grimaced. "Even when I was being a complete dick to you?" he asked.

"Even then," said Anna, smiling almost fondly. She leaned forward. "Thomas, they know about my stepfather," she said urgently. "Will you speak for me in court, if it comes to that?"

"Of course." Thomas doesn't even need to think about it. "But it won't. Lady Mary and Mr Bates are fighting your corner."

Anna smiled, but it did not quite reach her eyes. "I hope you're right," she said quietly. 

Thomas was right, as it happened. He was also knee-deep in a scheme to blackmail Miss Baxter, and Anna wondered if she had ever been right to trust him at all.

 

* * *

 

They grew apart again, as Anna focused on getting back into life at the Abbey and her relationship with Mr Bates, and Thomas, against all expectations, seemed to fall into a kind of friendship with Miss Baxter.

Until the unthinkable happened, and Anna's heart almost stopped when she heard the news.

"Where is he?" she asked Miss Baxter quietly.

She looked at her consideringly. "In his bedroom, upstairs," she whispered back. "He's sleeping."

Anna frowned but nodded.

The next day she used her half day off to go to the newsagent's in the village, before making her way up to Thomas's room. Mr Molesley, of all people, stood guard outside.

  
"Can I see him?" she asked immediately, after letting herself through the door to the male servants' rooms. Rules be damned, she needed to see her friend.

Molesley looked conflicted. "He's in a very bad state, Mrs Bates," he said gently. "It might be distressing for you."

"I don't care!" cried Anna, surprising herself. "I'm distressed _now_. He's my _friend_ , and I want to see him _now_ , Mr Molesley."

Mr Molesley looked a bit taken aback. "Very well," he said, stepping back so she could open the door.

She knocked first. "Thomas," she said, gently, "Thomas, it's Anna, can I come in?" Not hearing an answer, she exchanged a glance with Molesley, then pushed the door open.

Thomas was slumped against the headboard of his bed, looking tiredly up at her. "Anna?" he asked. "I thought it was you."

Anna nodded, heart in her throat. She was glad to see he was awake and sitting up, but that couldn't hide the dark purple circles beneath his eyes, or the bloodied bandages around his wrists. She hitched her shoulders up and sat down in the chair next to his bed.

"Were you just shouting at Molesley?" he said, and there was the barest hint of amusement in the dullness of his tone.

"Yes," said Anna, looking regretful. "He thought seeing you would be distressing for me." Her voice dripped with sarcasm.

"Is it?" Thomas asked.

"No," Anna said firmly, taking his hand, refusing to be put off by his wrists.

Thomas smiled, just a little. "You're a good friend," he said, voice floating on a wave of sleep.

"No," she said sharply. "No, I'm not Thomas." The tears were swimming in her eyes, but she refused to let them fall - this wasn't her pity party. "I should have been a better friend to you," she admitted.

"So should I," he said quietly. "And you couldn't have stopped this." He said it with resignation, as if this outcome was inevitable, and Anna wanted to shake him, except that she had felt that same hopelessness, that despair, herself. She said nothing.

"God, I would kill for a smoke," he said longingly, and Anna remembered what she'd brought with her. She pulled a packet of cigarettes out of the paper bag at her feet, and Thomas actually laughed, for a moment, before closing his eyes from the pain. She lit one for him and put it in his mouth, and then lit one for herself.

"Why?" Anna asked after a few minutes of companionable silence.

"There's _nothing_ for me here," he said, "and no one else wants me." He grimaced. "Why would they? I'm- well, you know."

"No," said Anna. "There's nothing wrong with you, you're just different. We're just different. You told me that."

"I thought you weren't like me," said Thomas, and the reminder stung.

"I was wrong, Thomas. I was angry and I was wrong." She took a deep breath. "And," she said, "I think a lot of people have been angry and wrong about you."

"I think a lot of people have been angry and right about me," Thomas countered stubbornly.

"No," she said. Thomas looked disbelieving. "Maybe, sometimes," she conceded. "But you kept my secrets when I told you. You've always let me know it's alright to be myself. I can always be myself around you, bad bits and good bits, did you know that? I can't be that around anyone else, not completely. And you came to visit me in prison. You've been so much for me over the years, and even if you haven't always been the best friend, neither have I, and the fact remains that - well, you are still my friend."

Thomas considered her words for a very long time. Then he said, "good," and stubbed his cigarette out in a bowl on the table, laying down and going to sleep almost immediately, his hand still holding the unlit cigarette.

Anna stubbed out hers and put it in the bowl, then gently prised the cigarette gently from Thomas's hand and putting it there too. She left the packet of cigarettes and matches on his bedside table and left the room.

 

* * *

 

They stand outside in the courtyard as they always did - the other servants are fussing over her tiny baby boy and Anna trusts they can look after him for a few minutes. She refuses the smoke from the new butler of Downton Abbey, but stands there with him in the courtyard, in the cold January air.

"Congratulations," says Thomas, smiling.

Anna grins, glowing with motherhood. "Thank you," she says, softly. "You too."

"Mm," says Thomas. "Do you fancy being the housekeeper when Mrs Hughes pops her clogs?"

"Thomas," she says, batting his shoulder with her hand. "That'll be a long while yet, anyway."

Thomas smiles at her knowingly. "But?"

"I don't know," Anna says, but she is smiling. "We'll see."

"We made it, Anna," he says, quietly triumphant. "All that time, everything that's happened...we both made it." He sounds wondering, as if he cannot believe they are both still here, together, and Anna has to concur.

"I want you to be godfather," she says, after a while. "I was waiting for the right moment to tell you."

Thomas, facing forward, raises an eyebrow. "And what does Bates say to that?"

"He knows better than to argue with me. He knows he won't win."

"Why?" says Thomas.

Anna shrugs. "He can hardly argue against our son having the butler of Downton Abbey as a godfather."

Thomas laughs. "No, I meant - why me?"

Anna looks at him surprised. "Who else?" she says, as if it's the simplest thing in the world. "And I've seen how good you are with Master George and Miss Sybbie."

Thomas nods, smiling, emotion glistening in his eyes. "Thank you." His voice is deep and warm with meaning.

"Does that mean you accept?" says Anna. Thomas nods, spellbound by Anna's light, the joy tinkling through her, the joy that she is sharing with him. "Well," she says, taking the cigarette from him and stamping it out, "you'd better come and meet your new godson." 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Comments are love! Also I'm posting this on my birthday so a comment would be the best present ;)


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